No Word For Blue
by Heliotropical
Summary: What Jack and Ianto have isn't a relationship, not really. Early series 2. Janto.
1. Chapter 1

No Word For Blue

It was a Sunday in the city above, up where things like that mattered. Down in the Hub days of the week went unheeded. They would have days on and days off, a rotating duty roster, if anyone ever bothered not to come in. Gwen usually took her days off. The others, Ianto, barely existed outside. Ianto still hadn't finished unpacking after three years. There were boxes all over his flat, Jack had seen them: stowed under tables and pushed into corners, gathering dust.

Sunday morning, and Jack was shivering slightly as he climbed up to his office. It was always chilly here in the mornings, since, as if by some silent agreement, the last one out at night always turned the heat down. Jack didn't mind the cold as he slept, or didn't sleep, and it added a sense of time to a place which no wind or rain or even the slightest brush of sunlight would ever touch. It made him appreciate that first cup of coffee all the more. Drawing the steam into his lung felt like the first breath of rebirth ought to feel, such joy as he couldn't help but smile and hear in his head a snippet of a hymn that he had once learned.

"Satisfactory, sir?"

"It'll do," he said with a wink. Though the moment seemed to call for innuendo, even for him it was a little early for that. "Anyone else in yet?"

* * *

Gwen had a fragrance about her, that Jack had first noticed when he put his arm around her on the invisible lift. It was a tangle of mixed flowers with a chemical sweetness; not a perfume, he suspected, most likely a shampoo or some sort of body wash. Once he had put a finger on it he caught it every time she came close to him. When she went home to Rhys, the husband-to-be, he kept thinking that Rhys must not even smell it anymore, after being so close to her so often.

It took much more time to pick up on Ianto's scent. The first time they kissed, really kissed, on that rooftop overlooking the Plass, he had almost tasted a hint of coffee but he wasn't sure whose breath it had been on. Only later did he slowly become aware of a distinctive neutral aroma around Ianto, the spiky clarity of air off the Irish Sea or bleak countryside washed by the rain.

* * *

An hour later he cornered Ianto in his office. He pressed him against the wall and kissed him passionately. Ianto was warm against him, smelling of salt and tasting of coffee and dark chocolate. He broke the kiss suddenly, grasped the back of Ianto's head with his hands and pressed their foreheads together. They were both breathing hard, not enough air. A fevered heat quivered through his entire body.

"Jack," Ianto whispered the name as if it was something holy. "Jack..."

If he hadn't been so close, Jack would not have heard the slight crack in his voice. He held Ianto to him harder, until he was sure he had left bruises on his shoulders, and Ianto's fingernails had certainly dug marks into his back, and still, if only he didn't have to let go.

* * *

Jack could feel Ianto's eyes on him as he got dressed. Smoothed out his hair, splashed cold water on his face, buttoned up his shirt and tucked it into his belt just as it was so it would look as though nothing had happened. Which it hadn't, not really.

"Do you have any shirts that aren't blue?" In the mirror he saw Ianto still on the bed, lying propped up on his elbows. Jack smiled and jokingly counted on his fingers.

"Lessee, one two, one's turquoise, so... two and a half? Why, don't you think I look dashing in blue?"

"Of course I do," Ianto replied, "though I think you look more dashing _not_ in it."

Jack snorted.

"It's just a good thing we aren't in ancient Greece," Ianto added through a yawn.

He turned to face the young man, puzzling through the seeming non sequitur. Ianto was always a little loopy after sex: his lilting accent was stronger, and things slipped out of his mouth that would never otherwise get past his careful filter. Mostly Jack found this charming. Of course he couldn't tell Ianto that he actually had been in ancient Greece once, and if it had only been for a few days he had found it extremely well to his liking.

"Why's that?" he settled for.

"Greek had no word for blue. That's why Homer is always going on about the 'wine-dark sea' and the 'bronze sky.' Then we read it and we say, how lovely! how poetic! what a fine turn of phrase! But he only put it like that because the right word didn't exist."

Jack hadn't known that. He considered asking Ianto where he had learned Greek, was he much for the classics, tease him that English and Welsh weren't enough for him, for a moment he really wanted to, but then he though better of it. He caught himself staring thoughtlessly at Ianto, who had closed his eyes and appeared to be dozing again. Something itched deep behind his ribs.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time they climbed up from Jack's room the place had noticeably warmed up. Tosh must have arrived. She was always turning up the heat. Jack had to suppress a laugh when he recalled that Christmas a few years ago, when they had all been stuck here one some urgent case and the heater had been on the fritz. He had a distinct image of the poor woman huddled at her computer console, buried under two scarves and what had to be at least three jackets. When he had noticed her teeth were still chattering, Jack had thrown his wool greatcoat over her shoulders. She had smiled at him with such relief. This was in the days before Ianto, so all they had for coffee was that rickety old machine that never made it as strong as he wanted. Still, it was warm caffeine.

"Good morning, team!" he announced, leaning on the railing. "Tosh, I want those rift polarity readouts on my desk by noon. Labeled. Owen, UNIT still wants that lab report! And I think they mean that they _actually _want it, they're not happy just knowing it exists and is safe somewhere in the parallel world of your mind."

"I, er. Right," the doctor answered sheepishly, and wandered off towards the autopsy bay. Tosh had her glasses on and was typing already.

"And Gwen- where the hell is Gwen?" He scanned the main floor of the Hub. No sign. Tosh looked up at him, bit her lip and shrugged.

"She took the morning off," Ianto said finally, "Back by noon."

Of course she did. "Well, when she gets in, someone please tell her that that last case is completely closed. I don't want to hear from the police any more about it and will she please make them go away. I'll be in my office."

* * *

"Ianto?"

There was talking downstairs, bits of laughter. It didn't sound like work, though Jack didn't care about that: let them laugh, have a few moments of joy, the world wasn't ending right this minute. Not as far as they know, at least. He could make out Gwen's voice distinctly, rising to a climax of some punch line. And the others laughed. Good kids, they were. He tried not to let that last thought bother him in the pinching, overcasting way that it did. Good kids.

"Ianto!" he tried again.

Gwen's slim frame appeared suddenly in the open doorway. She was still smiling, her face slightly flushed. Her pretty face. Pretty, sweet Gwen.

"Ianto's gone to pick up the Chinese," she said. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Nope, just wanted coffee." He stared back at the forms on his desk, and started shuffling them around in the hope that this would make them fill themselves out. A floral aroma hit his nose. Gwen was still here.

"I could make coffee, you know," she said, "theoretically, I could."

So pretty, so sweet Gwen was. There was something about the shape of her eyes that made her look sad, all the time, even when she wasn't. Jack suddenly felt as empty as that child of the Blitz, so many years ago. He couldn't make himself look at her. She might see.

"That's alright, thanks," he said. When he finally looked up again she was long gone. Silvery laughter floated over the stairs.

Ianto came in a few minutes later. He knocked daintily on the wall outside Jack's office, since the door was open but he liked to knock anyways. He was carrying a tray of those goofy Chinese take-out boxes and a mug of coffee.

"Eggrolls, shrimp lo mein and coffee," he announced, "the stuff of legends!"

He set the tray down on Jack's desk. The damnable paperwork was not completing itself as ordered. "Thanks, Ianto."

His old clock ticked reproachfully at him. His pen scratched against paper. It occurred to him that Ianto too was lingering in front of his desk. What was it with people today? His office was not actually a lounge. He was going to have to start closing the door if he wanted to get anything done. The young man was just standing there, hands folded neatly behind his back, watching him.

"Is there something else?"

"No, sir. It's just..." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Jack thought he saw him swallow. "Are you angry with me?"

"Why would I be angry with you?"

"I don't know, sir."

Ianto wasn't meeting his eyes, but Jack peered intently him. He had sea-colored eyes; not like the slate-gray Welsh sea, but the water of somewhere with more heat and sun. They were more expressive that Ianto probably wanted. He looked a little lost, distracted, as if he couldn't quite remember where he was and what he had been doing. You and me both, kid.

"Me neither," said Jack.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned to go. "Ianto..." And, that deer-in-the-headlights look. Now he really had no idea what he had been about to say. "Thanks for the coffee."

* * *

He needed a sofa in his office. Somewhere where he could lie down for just five minutes, stretch out and close his eyes, and let his mind empty before returning to work. Leave this rainy world behind, if only for five minutes, and fill his head with sand and sea. Feel once again the sun at the edge of the world, the heat that pulsed through him like a second heartbeat.

His eyes wandered to the piece of golden coral poised on its stand on the desk. For a few seconds he held his breath so he could hear the faint hum it emitted, almost too soft and too low for the human ear to pick up.

Impulsively he reached for his mobile. Snapped it open. Stared at the screen without knowing what he was doing. Wondered if he would even get an answer. He closed it again.

A sofa or a treadmill, alternately. He used to run when he felt like this. He would try to run himself into oblivion, only stopping when he was too tired to think anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

He needed to move, Jack decided. Get out of this place for a bit, go above ground and breathe new air. Sometimes, between work inside and Ianto's efficient grocery shopping, he wouldn't leave the Hub for days on end. He hated that, especially that moment of shock when he realized how long it had been since he had set foot outside. It was a gut panic, like some trapped animal. He stood up and decisively kicked his chair back.

"Ianto!" he shouted as he went for his coat. He swung it on while he skipped down the stairs, just in time to see the man in question emerge from the kitchen, looking up at him expectantly. "Let's go for fish and chips."

"Yes, sir," Ianto replied, but only after glancing back and forth suspiciously between him and the team, as though this could be the lead-up to some elaborate prank.

They rode up on the invisible lift, and all Jack could think about was how close their hands were.

Outside it was a little chilly, the sky dulled by clouds, and with the thin mist floating over the streets that was common between bouts of winter rain. It was past the time when most people went home for supper, but before the night owls came back out. Jack raised his coat collar against the damp chill. Ianto had wrapped a thick scarf around his neck, his hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his jaw was set in badly masked discomfort. So much for the vaunted British indifference to weather.

Though Jack knew he never was one for small talk, he spoke to him anyway without expecting a response. There was that poster for that new band again, and it reminded him of this other song he had heard somewhere once, a while ago, and wasn't it funny how so many aliens looked like walking fish? He always hoped to meet one with feathers, but not yet. And had he tried that new pizza shop yet?

Every time he looked at Ianto the young man seemed to be paying close attention to his nonsense jabbering, but after a few minutes Jack started to feel silly, like he was talking to his own reflection in the street puddles. His words tapered off like a run-out wind-up toy, falling softer and slower until after one last thick pause they didn't start up again. He hoped Ianto would say something, but no such luck.

They bought supper at a place teetering on the edge of the city, where the water lapped at concrete walls ten feet below. It was staffed by a sullen adolescent in an artfully wrinkled t-shirt, a Yorkshire boy if his accent was any indication. Jack ordered 'to go' by habit, they ordered everything to go, and then felt obligated to actually take the two bundles of fish wrapped in greasy newspaper outside. At least it wasn't raining, and the sky might even have been clearing somewhat, though it was hard to tell past all the streetlights. They couldn't think of any reason not to eat right there, on an empty strip between buildings, so that was what they did. When Jack was finished he leaned against the railing, and noticed a little too late that the dew on it from the day's rain had soaked through the elbows of his coat.

* * *

"You would go again, wouldn't you." He was staring fixedly out across the bay, obviously making a point not to look at Jack.

"Ianto..."

"I see you sometimes, and I know that if he showed up, if he called, you'd go running off again. Without a second thought."

"You don't know what happened, that time."

"Then tell me." Ianto broke down and turned to face him. His voice was low and desperate, and in his expression was something all too familiar from when Jack had first met him, a world of pain woven into every fiber of his being.

"I don't want you to know, alright?" Jack snapped, and then caught himself. It was so easy to forget that Ianto actually did not know. "I don't want anyone to know. It didn't happen."

He didn't understand. He couldn't, and Jack wasn't helping. Ianto was sinking into himself, building a wall between them. Jack could feel it, and at the same time he was absolutely certain that he had to stop him, right here, right now. He grabbed the young man by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. Ianto was shaking slightly under his hands, and stared past him instead of back at him.

"What you need to know is, I came back. There was a choice. I could have gone for good, but I didn't. And I promise you this, do you hear me? I promise you that I will always come back."

Jack pulled Ianto to him. He wrapped his arms around him, pressed a kiss into his wine-dark hair and breathed in his clear saline scent. A cool breeze was coming off the bay. Ianto was shaking harder, silently sobbing maybe, and Jack held him close. He wondered if he could ever hold him close enough. He wondered if they really had had one heart between the two of them once.

After a while Ianto's breathing steadied. He melted against Jack, their heads pressed together. Jack closed his eyes. Nothing more needed to be said.


End file.
